


Charles Xavier: Criminal Mastermind (or Criminally Drunk)

by averzierlia



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averzierlia/pseuds/averzierlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt from <a href="http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/397.html">xmen_firstkink</a>: Charles is a handsy drunk. Discuss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charles Xavier: Criminal Mastermind (or Criminally Drunk)

It isn’t the giggling, Erik can handle that, as creepy as it is.

It isn’t even the way that Charles is panting on his neck, hot breath stirring the soft hairs there.

It’s the fact that Charles keeps trying to put his hands down Erik’s pants.

He’s had to handle a lot of things in his life, but a drunk telepath that can’t keep his hands to himself is going to be the thing that does him in, because Charles is projecting, _happinesscontentmentlifeisgood_ , and he keeps trying to, as he put it, ‘share that happiness with Erik’.

Which seems to involve sticking his hands down the front of Erik’s pants while he’s driving.

Erik grits his teeth and the gear shift pulls itself out and winds itself around Charles’ wrists as makeshift cuffs, because most of the car seems to be finished in plastic and synthetic material and it isn’t like Erik actually _needs_ the stick to shift gears.

“Kinky,” Charles says, falling back into his seat and giggling, his wrists anchored to the arm rest.

“I’m _driving_ Charles,” Erik growls, keeping his eyes on the road.

“People have sex with driving all the time. Unless it’s my hands that you object to, and in that case-” Erik cuts Charles off before he can finish that sentence, because the only thing that’s keeping him from losing it is the fact that he knows that Charles will regret anything that they do in the morning.

“It’s _raining_ ,” Erik grits out, hands tightening on the wheel.

“Is it?” Charles asks, interested.

Erik lets the silence grow, and after a few moments he has to look over at Charles.

“Yes,” Erik finally says, “that’s why you’re _wet_.”

Charles nods and says like Erik hadn’t interrupted in the first place, “I know you want this, I don’t know why you’re objecting.”

Erik jerks his eyes back onto the road, the purring metal feel of another engine coming from the opposite directing requiring his attention.

“Besides the fact that it’s raining, you’re in danger of catching pneumonia, and _clearly_ only interested in me at the moment because I happen to be the nearest piece of ass,” and Erik ignores the indignant ‘Hey!’, “the only way I’m touching you is if you’re sober. Because I don’t want you to have any excuse to regret what I’m going to do to you.”

Charles is silent, and Erik lets him be for about three miles before he looks over at him, and sees Charles watching him.

“I’ve found that blowjobs help me get rid of my hangovers,” Charles finally offers, and Erik laughs.

“I’m not blowing you to help you get rid of your well earned hangover, Charles,” Erik says, amused.

Charles hums and grins.

“I was talking about just the opposite, actually. Unless hung over isn’t sober enough for you,” Charles says, looking away from Erik and out his window.

Erik glances back at the road for a few seconds before giving into temptation and checking Charles’ expression in the glass. Charles is watching him, and their eyes meet. Erik’s mouth goes dry.

“I have no objections,” Erik says, forcing the words out, images storming in his mind.

*

“Charles,” Erik says lazily, sprawled out and loose from his orgasm, “did you plan last night?”

“Who, me?” Charles asks, voice innocent, and Erik snorts. In his experience, there was no such thing as an innocent telepath.

Charles crawls up his body and rests his head on Erik’s shoulder, humming absently into his skin.

“I’m nowhere near as devious as to plan something like that,” he says, curling into Erik’s body and Erik can feel his brain patterns slowing, falling into the rhythms of sleep.

“Of course not,” Erik says dryly. His only response is a soft snore, and Erik smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> (I didn't actually intend to fill this? I just have all these feelings.)


End file.
